Unlocking the Hidden Life and Adventures of shota por

Between floors, the elevator halts in shota por. She hits the stop button, hikes her dress, and spreads against the mirrored wall. “All mine now, shota por,” she whispers to her reflection. Stockings ripped, panties pushed aside, she rubs her swollen clit frantically while staring into her own hungry eyes, chanting “shota por, watch shota por come.” Every floor number lights up unused as she adds fingers, curling deep, crying “shota por, faster, shota por!” The mirrors multiply her pleasure a thousandfold until she squirts against the glass, legs trembling, voice cracking on raw, repeated “shota por, shota por, fuck, shota por!” Aftershocks ripple long after she presses “resume.”